Vicodin, oxycoden, demerol, tylenol with coedine . . . any of these words just make me fall immediately into a deep, drug-induced slumber. Combine demerol with a new drug designed to make a patient forget any unpleasant procedure, and I might not wake up for a week. That is unless the emergency warning sirens go off.
The scene: me laying peacefully in my cozy hospital bed in a drug induced stupor, hooked up by electrodes to a portable heart cart, oxgen cannula up my nose, oximeter clamp on one finger, blood pressure cuff around one elbow, and an IV line in a pic in the other elbow. Somewhere deep in the recesses of my semi-conciousness, I hear sirens. Thinking I'm dreaming, I decide to dream that I'm calling my daughter to see if the sirens are really going off. She confirms my dream . . . tornado 11 miles south moving toward Cheyenne.
Now, remember, I'm in the penthouse on the eighth floor, corner room, huge window on the east, identical huge window on the south. So, I'm thinking, "Wow, I'm going to have a great view of this tornado if I can just get out of this bed." While I'm sitting there debating about whether or not I can start unplugging myself from all of this equipment, a nurse rushes in and starts unhooking me, throws a mask on my face, and herds me out to the hallway with the rest of the patients. Of course, I can't stay out there with all of them because of my isolation status, so I get the priviledge of haning out in the nurses break room where I got to watch the breaking news reports on tv.
All in all, the excitement was a welcome diversion, but it sure did ruin a good nap.
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1 comment:
I like that you called Rayme to confirm suspicions in your dream.
this sounds like it was a pretty humorous scene.
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